


One Good Deed

by Leela



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood Magic, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not enough, I know. Even if I lived for another couple of hundred years, I won't be able to atone for what I've done, what I almost did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Good Deed

**Author's Note:**

> **Betas:** Minxie, batdina, and Meri_Oddities

Percy's mum collapsed as soon as the door to the dorm locked behind them. He reached out for her, but she'd already grabbed onto his dad and Ron. Not wanting to look like the idiot he felt, Percy turned his aborted gesture into a wand movement, aimed it at the closest bed, and said, " _Engorgio_."

The bed, along with its yellow hanging and covers, started expanding. Trunks, wardrobes, and other beds were shoved out of the way as the bed Percy had chosen grew big enough to hold his parents and a couple of his siblings.

 _I'm not really a part of this family any longer_ , Percy couldn't help thinking as he watched Hermione help Ron and his dad awkwardly shuffle his mum to the oversize bed. Once upon a time, his mum would have turned to him first, calling him her dependable one. That loss was a ghostly ache in his chest, even worse than the one that had accompanied him for the past few years.

"Would somebody _please_ get that door?" His dad sounded exasperated, almost angry. No friendliness. Nothing like the fond, exasperated tone Percy remembered from his childhood.

Someone was knocking, and Percy hadn't noticed. He put aside his bitter regrets and concentrated on undoing the locking spell. George and Ginny stumbled past him, clinging onto each other. Their red-rimmed eyes were stark in their white faces.

By the time Percy had re-locked the door and warded it, everyone else had settled in. His mum was in the middle of the big bed with Ginny on one side and George on the other. Ron and Hermione were huddled together on top of the covers on the bed opposite them.

Dad was perched on the end of the bed, his head in his hands. Mum was alternating between crying over Fred's death and moaning about killing Bellatrix Lestrange. Percy wanted to tell his mum not to fret over the latter, but he didn't think telling her what Bella had got up to at Malfoy Manor would help very much.

Then George sat up and said, "You'll tell Fred where to find me, yeah?" And Percy's mum started sobbing all over again.

"Fred's..." Percy started to say.

But Ginny sat up and reached over their mum to take George's hand. "Fred's down in the Great Hall."

"Yeah, okay. We won the whole... Should have seen the blast, it was... Exactly, better than..."

After each partial sentence, Ginny murmured something to George. Perhaps a response, or maybe even the other half, Percy wasn't sure, because she spoke too quietly for him to hear. He took a step closer and then another, thinking it would be helpful if George had someone on his side of the bed, but Ginny waved him away and mouthed, "I've got it." So he backed off and stood there.

At a loss for what else to do but unable to simply sit and watch George succumb to the Dreamless Sleep potion Dad gave him, Percy began to pace around. The room was an absolute mess. The fighting hadn't reached the Hufflepuff dorms, but the second year boys who had been living in the room apparently didn't believe in picking up after themselves. A flick of Percy's wand activated the room's heating charms. A series of swishes sent books off to shelve themselves, and clothing to pile itself on one of the unused beds.

When the room was as liveable as Percy could manage without a house elf or major cleaning charms, he settled himself on one of the trunks that he'd pushed against the wall near the door. Unhooking the arms of his glasses, he removed them from his face. A quick tap of his wand and the lenses were gleaming again. He retrieved his book from the inside pocket of his robes. After repairing yet another damaged spot in the fabric, he unshrunk the book and opened it at the page he'd marked.

For once, reading was impossible even with a book he'd read and re-read more times than he could count. His gaze kept moving from the words of the spell to his family. Like his own, their robes were tattered and stained with bodily fluids and other things that didn't bear thinking about, but they still felt like home. A home where he was welcome, but no longer quite belonged. He'd given up that right when he'd turned his back on them to make his own choices. He clenched his fists on the book, preventing himself from rubbing his left forearm yet again. His skin was unmarked, and yet...

Opening his eyes, Percy looked right at his dad and his thoughts fled.

"We need to talk," his dad said.

Percy closed his book and slid over on the trunk, making room for his dad to sit down.

"Look, Percy." His dad rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. "I need you to do something for me."

"Of course." Percy could feel his back straightening merely at the thought of being needed.

"Good, good," his dad murmured and patted Percy's shoulder. "I'd do it myself, but I've got to go back down there and help Kingsley get things sorted. I really shouldn't have stayed this long, but--" his eyes strayed to the bed where Percy's mum slept fitfully "--I had to make sure Molly and the rest of the family were going to be all right."

It took effort, but Percy was able to hold his head high and not allow his eyes to do more than prickle.

"I knew I could count on you."

"Always, Dad," Percy responded, and was unaccountably relieved when his dad didn't point out the ridiculousness of that statement. "What do you need?"

His dad stood up and hesitated for a minute, then said, "I'd appreciate it if... if you could go to the Great Hall in a bit. It just that... Charlie, it shouldn't all be on him, and I need Ron to look after the family here. So, if you could give him a chance to rest. Take... take a turn watching over Fred's... uh... Fred."

A short, sharp nod of agreement was the best Percy could manage. By the time he'd regained sufficient control to respond further, his dad was out the door and Percy had to lock up after him.

The bedroom was far less comfortable after that. The other five all seemed to be sleeping. None of them were restless, but no one was quiet either. They sniffled and snored, sighed and whimpered. Ron muttered in his sleep off and on. But none of them woke up to keep Percy company.

One of the beds tempted Percy for a moment, but he couldn't afford to lie down. He'd been asked to do something, and he couldn't say no. Instead, he tucked his book back into a pocket and walked over to the large bed.

His mum had aged since he'd last seen her. There were new lines in her face and new grey hairs dimming her once-vibrant red hair. Guilt once again assailed Percy as he wondered how many of those lines and grey hairs were his fault. She slept on her back, with her mouth open slightly, and one arm around each of Ginny and George. Ginny was curled up in a tight ball, facing their mum, shivering. Goosebumps marred the skin of her arm and leg, where rips in her clothing exposed her to the air. On the other side of the bed, George looked shrunken and lost. Even as he slept, one hand kept reaching out, clutching at the air.

Walking around, Percy stroked a hand through George's overlong hair. He went to tuck some of the ends behind George's ear, only to stop when he discovered that the ear was missing. Had he known the Death Eater who'd done that?

The familiar ache in Percy's chest expanded that much further. He swallowed, hard. They'd all been so glad to see him when he finally made it out the end of that filthy tunnel. None of them had questioned him, or doubted his sudden about-face. All of them assuming that he'd _come to his senses_.

He had chosen the losing side; that much was true. He'd been desperate to prove that he, a Weasley, was just as good as a Malfoy, or any other pureblood. A few months of working at the Ministry had left him sick and tired of trying to ignore everyone snickering behind his back, calling him names simply because he was the son of _that bumbling fool_. He had refused to be relegated to a minor post, shoved out of sight and out of mind of everyone who counted at the Ministry, just as his dad had been. So, he'd made his own connections and found a mentor who could help his career more than his father or that incompetent Barty Crouch ever dreamed possible.

Now it was all turned to ashes, and he was being shoved aside once again. Not much of a life. Not with decades of bureaucratic Coventry unwinding before him; years and years of his family pretending that having him back in the fold could make up for losing Fred.

A hand descended on Percy's shoulder. Shock made him whirl around, yanking out the strands of George's hair that were still in his hand. George kept on sleeping, as if his hair hadn't been pulled out.

"It's just me, Perce. I thought I'd check on everyone." Ron's whisper, still blurry with sleep, came from just behind him.

Percy slammed his foot down on the floor, stopping himself mid-whirl, bit down on the hex that had almost spilled over his lips, and dropped his wand back down to his side.

"Suppose I should expect you to be a bit jumpy, after the day we've had." Ron yawned and scrubbed a hand through his hair, making even more of it stick up on end. His other hand, Percy noted, was gripping his own wand.

The only response that came to mind was so pompous that Percy dismissed it out of hand, but that left him with nothing to say. So, he tucked the hair into the handkerchief his mum had abandoned on the bedside table. The cotton was still damp with her tears. Then, he folded it carefully, murmured a preserving charm, and placed it in his breast pocket.

"Can you watch over them?" Percy asked Ron, who had sat down on the end of the bed where Hermione was sleeping.

Ron frowned and then shrugged. "It's my job, isn't it? I suppose you've got something more important to do."

The implication behind Ron's comment made Percy wince, but he responded to it anyway. "Something of equal importance, as it happens. Dad asked me to keep vigil over Fred for a few hours."

The loss that flashed through Ron's eyes staggered Percy. "What are we going to do without Fred, Perce?" Ron glanced at their brother. "And George, god, he--" Ron's voice cracked "he's going to be lost without his other half."

"I know." Percy blinked hard, then changed the subject.

"You... you should go. I'll keep an eye on this lot for you."

"Thank you." Percy held out his hand for Ron to shake. Ron looked at it, apparently confused, and gave Percy an awkward, unsatisfying one-armed hug.

After leaving the room, Percy stood in the hallway long enough to ensure that Ron had locked and warded the dorm. Then he shook out his robes and headed for the Great Hall. He made a couple of detours on the way to pick up the two or three remaining items listed in his book. No one paid any attention to him.

o0O0o

After a brief exchange with the Aurors guarding the main entrance to the Great Hall, Percy picked his way carefully across to the corner they pointed out to him.

The Great Hall wasn't as empty as it felt. The house tables were once again gone. The row of bodies down the middle was smaller. Only those without families or whose relatives could not get to Hogwarts remained in that solemn line, watched over by Aurors. A few torches were lit, but they only deepened the gloom and shadows. Candles flickered here and there along the sides of the room, identifying the places where people sat vigil. Low voices created a susurrus of prayer.

"Percy," Charlie said quietly, rising from his kneeling position.

"Charlie." Percy wrapped his arms around his brother and clung on. His glasses dug into the side of his nose. The smell of sweat and blood made even breathing through his mouth difficult. But Percy didn't care about any of that, because this was his big brother Charlie.

As always, when the embrace reached the edge between reassuring and uncomfortable, Charlie let go. Percy stumbled slightly, but his brother stood there, arms crossed over his chest, and waited. Percy had always appreciated that about Charlie. Other people had accused his older brother of caring more for his dragons than for people, but somehow this least likely of people had always understood what Percy needed.

Glancing down at the body laying on the pallet at their feet, Charlie noted, "You’re here to take a turn, say your goodbyes."

"Dad thought you might like a respite." Percy adjusted his glasses, studiously not looking anywhere else except at Charlie. "There's a bed for you in the Hufflepuff dorms. Second year boys." He wrinkled his nose. "The showers are working, though. You might want to take advantage of them."

Shaking his head, his voice laced with amusement and exhaustion, Charlie said, "Don't think I'll be able to sleep, but I could definitely use a shower. I'll come back right after, though. No need for you to stay here alone, not any longer than you have to."

"I'll be fine," Percy insisted, clasping his trembling hands behind his back. "I want to help."

Eyes narrowing, Charlie examined Percy but seemed to be fine with whatever he saw. "If you need anything, just ask one of the Aurors."

With one last glance downwards, Charlie turned around and left without saying goodbye. And Percy was alone. With Fred.

Washed and wrapped in a white shroud, with his face visible and his eyes closed, Fred looked as peaceful as his upturned mouth and irrepressibly red hair would allow. Very different from the grimy, bloody body that Percy and Harry had hidden in a niche.

Not wanting to cast a Silencing spell or wards to call attention to himself yet, Percy checked that no one was close enough to hear then knelt next to the pallet.

"I killed Rookwood for you and a couple of others," Percy assured Fred. He paused, taking a moment to brush imaginary dirt off Fred's face, and confessed in a whisper. "It's not enough, I know. Even if I lived for another couple of hundred years, I won't be able to atone for what I've done, what I almost did."

"If Harry had waited three more weeks--" Self-conscious, he rubbed his left forearm with his right hand. "If I'd taken the mark, not even having Weasley for a surname would have saved me from Azkaban or..."

Percy pursed his lips. "However, none of that matters. Not any longer. And I'm sure you're far more interested in the fact that everyone misses you terribly. Mum's a complete wreck, and George isn't really all there. You left a gaping hole in our family, and I can never be the right shape to fill it."

Taking out a cleaning cloth, he took his glasses off and polished the lenses. The familiar movements had their usual soothing effect. After he'd folded the cloth, put it away, and resettled his glasses on his nose, he was completely calm.

Once again sure that he was about to do the right thing, one good deed, for his family, Percy glanced around. No one was paying any attention to him -- or anyone else for that matter. A couple of other vigils were surrounded with privacy wards, so his wards shouldn't garner too much unwanted attention. At least not until it was too late.

Another deep breath and he whispered the spell that he'd been taught at the Ministry, confirming that the wards that usually protected the school were still down.

Now or never, he thought, and started pulling the ritual items out of his pockets. He laid them out on the floor and placed his wand beside them. He didn't need it for this step. Next, he removed his robes and shirt, folding them neatly and putting them off to one side.

The knife slashed easily across Percy's palm and the stinging pain brought an unexpected calm and a comforting sense that he was doing the right thing. He clenched his fist, holding in the precious blood. Picking up the salt in his other hand, he rose to his feet and started to walk widdershins around Fred. Head bent, he dribbled salt from his right hand and dripped blood from his left.

Returning to his position kneeling next to Fred, he took up his wand. Two rings, one deceptively simple, the other blood-warded, sprang up to meet in an arch above them. With another pair of quick, practiced movements, he healed his left hand -- there was no sense leaving any more of a mess than absolutely necessary -- and banished Fred's shroud and the herbs and amulets that had been placed inside it to protect the body.

He retrieved his book and opened it once again. Without really looking at the ritual, he removed the preservation charm from the handkerchief and laid the cloth, still damp with their mum's tears, over Fred's eyes. Unable to stop himself from grimacing, he put his hand into the bag and scooped out a measure of the portable swamp that still obstructed part of the corridor on the fifth floor. It had been reduced greatly in size over the years, but never completely removed. Percy smeared the mixture of grass and mud on Fred's forehead, on the palms of his hands, and the bottom of his feet.

The shallow silver bowl, retrieved from one of the smashed trophy cases, was expanded to its normal size and placed at Fred's feet. Percy dropped the lock of hair he'd clipped from George's head earlier that night into the bowl and set it to burn with a simple _Incendio_.

A noise from outside startled him. Someone was raising the alarm, possibly sensing the power swirling from his ritual. Many people yelled, and then Percy recognised Lucius' voice, cutting through the clamour, shutting them all up with an explanation of what was happening. You're too late, Percy would have told the man, but he couldn't afford to waste any time or energy.

Bowing his head, Percy bent over Fred's body with the knife and his wand clasped between his hands. A smile curved his lips as peace stole through him with each word of the ritual. A life for a life, given with love and regret, with honour and a need to right a wrong.

He kissed the skin over Fred's heart, then released his wand and slid the knife home. Barely aware of the pain, he twisted the knife and drew it out. Percy's heart's blood gushed out after it, painting the place he had just kissed.

Lying down so his heart bled out over Fred's and his head rested awkwardly on Fred's shoulder, Percy felt the last of his wards come down beneath Lucius' determined assault.

"You foolish boy," Lucius said, dropping to his knees opposite Percy. Other people spoke behind him, but Percy was aware only of his one time friend and mentor. Lucius' expression was an odd mixture of exasperation, fondness, and sorrow.

Too late, Percy would have said, if he'd been capable, and thank you for giving me the book. But he had barely enough blood left to ooze out and his heart was slowing down.

Sure that he had felt the stirring of Fred's heart, the heaving of Fred's chest as he gasped for a first breath, Percy went gladly into the darkness.

~fin~


End file.
